To End All Wars
by Tilthanial
Summary: Tugratz is one orc in a vast host uncountable. He and his company are front line troops, bred for the complete and utter destruction of all things good. His command is tasked with driving a deep wedge between Gondor's Northern and Southern armies...
1. Outskirts

Tugratz poked his head up carefully from the cover of the embankment. The sun was to rise soon. Oh how he hated the sun and its horrible light. It did not matter. The Master had called him and his company to fight. He had not shed human blood for centuries. Just the thought of running a pathetic human through with his half-sword quickened his blood and made his saliva start.

His lieutenants waited dutifully for his signal. The orcs around them were fidgeting anxiously but the uruks held their ground by sheer will. The moment he let them loose they would pounce upon the hapless men like wargs on deer. Then they could have fun.

Far off in the distance a warg howled ominously. That was the signal. All along a twenty-three mile front orc companies would begin the invasion. His was but one part of many crucial units. Nonetheless he knew all too well how easily replaceable they were.

Silently he raised his sword and motioned forward. His command split into three flanks and advanced slowly. In the early morning dark they could see much better than the Gondorian men on the other side of the bridge. His men would rely on stealth and speed to overwhelm them, unlike the others.

As the bridge came into view Tugratz saw his flanks fall behind cover. He followed their example and scanned the bridge. A lone sentry patrolled the bridge, sword swinging lazily in his hand. _Blast._

With unvoiced agreement the flanks crept out and continued their advance. The archers on the left found cover behind the raised banks of the river and prepared to take him down. The right flank continued forward unabated.

Tugratz raised his hand to halt the flanks and crawled forward. When he was close enough he motioned for a silent kill. They hesitated slightly before nodding in agreement. A silent kill meant more of them would make it out alive; and it meant more dead humans.

With practiced ease the right flank crept up within feet of the bridge, unnoticed by the tense and agitated sentry. They were about to rise and rush him when a sharp pain stabbed through Tugratz's leg. He collapsed on the ground in a heap and bit back a curse. It was too late. The sentry spun around and scoured the area with his sword ready. Thankfully he didn't see the orcs sitting just a stone's throw away.

Tugratz clutched his leg and grimaced in pain. His old worn scar burned with an intensity he had never felt before. The magic from that cursed elven blade continued the job that its owner had failed. It was slowly and deliberately killing him. He had taken the wound over two thousand years ago and it had gradually increased in severity since. Nothing could heal or bind the wound. Nothing could relieve the pain that haunted his every step.

It seemed like ages before the sentry gave a final sweep of the area and turned around carefully. The uruk Flirsgar was on him before he could sheath his sword. The uruks heavy blade crashed down on the sentry's unprotected back with enough power to break him in half. Ill fate had it that Flirsgar stumbled on some loose marble that littered the bridge. The fatal blow slipped from his grasp and instead glanced off the side of his arm. The weight of the blow, however, rent his shield from top to bottom and slashed through the armor protecting his forearm. The sentry managed to let out a terrified and agonized scream before the other two orcs descended on him with hungry blades. His lifeless body tumbled over the railing and splashed into the freezing waters below.

The orc archers fired a suppressive volley at the fires dotting the edge of the ruined guard-tower, pinning down the men by the fireside. Tugratz leapt to his feet and urged on the orcs beside him. They noiselessly sprinted to the bridge and carried on past Flirsgar's men as they recovered from the combat. A second human appeared at the far end of the bridge. Without thinking Tugratz hurdled a small barrier and plunged his sword into the man's chest. He gazed in wonder at the blade protruding from his chest. Then an axe-head crashed down on the side of his head. His head tumbled off backwards and rolled to a stop at the feet of the stunned men following him.

An arrow whistled by his head and caught one of his orcs in the throat. The orc gurgled painfully and dropped like a rock. Tugratz contemptuously spat on the arrow and pushed the dead soldier's corpse off of his blade. The scent of blood aroused his senses and pumped pure adrenaline into his veins. The war had begun.

The orc force charged off of the bridge like a wave and thrust deep into the ranks of the stunned men. Flirsgar took his hand-picked orcs and split off from the main group and headed for the guard-tower, ladder in tow. They knew what to do. The rest of the orcs fell upon the men with relish. Through the fray Tugratz saw a captain directing his troops in a desperate effort to hold off the advance. Hurgk, one of Tugratz's best soldiers, rushed through a gap in the line and drove his spear into the captain's stomach. The blade pierced the metal breastplate with ease, but the hilt of the spear snapped under the pressure. Weaponless Hurgk could do no more than throw himself at the captain with raking claws before the captain split his helm with one powerful blow.

The orcs following Tugratz's column dropped their ladders at the sight of the human soldiers. They rushed into the fray gleefully and added their weight into the melee. The men's courage failed at the sight of the reserve orcs and they turned to flee. Tugratz urged his men onwards and chased off after them. The orcs pushed themselves to the limit as they gained ground. The blood lust was in all of their eyes.

The captain rallied his men at the foot of the tower-hill. With surprising speed he closed the gap between the sides and smote one of the frontrunners with a mighty backhanded swing. The orc's inert form collapsed instantly. Spurred on by the sight of a fallen comrade, Tugratz and his orcs fell on the men with vengeance. Tugratz himself slew the banner carrier that hefted the flag of Minas Tirith. He paused only for a moment to slash the flag into ribbons before moving on after his fellow soldiers.

The Gondorian soldiers quickly were separated and slaughtered as they tried to retreat to the safety of the guard-tower. A solid oak arrow flashed through the darkness and pierced the unprotected thigh of the captain. He stumbled against the wall of the tower and valiantly held off the orcs that surrounded him. Tugratz pushed his way through the throng around him and faced the captain.

His armor dented and scratched from numerous hits, the man fought off his attackers with strength that could only stem from fear. Tugratz got a good look at him as he raised his sword to a guard position. He was fair skinned, and well proportioned, with dark blue eyes that glistened with life. He probably would have been called handsome in his home city. That made him even more despicable.

"Die in fear, human."

Tugratz leveled his sword and feinted a thrust. The man stumbled forward as he attempted to block it. Tugratz seized his chance. He slipped in behind the man and sank his fangs into the man's unprotected neck. His sword slipped in underneath the man's breastplate and slid easily into his stomach. Rich warm blood spewed into his mouth as he pressed his fangs in deeper, relishing the taste. The man's agonized screams were refreshingly clear. When he had enough he drew his fangs out slowly and snapped the man's neck with a great twist. The man's corpse dropped limply to the ground, Tugrat'z sword stuck deep in his gut.

Flirsgar limped up from the guard-tower and saluted. "We took out the remnants. We caught them on the ladder and finished them all off. None escaped."

Tugratz snarled as pain shot down his leg. "Well done, Flirsgar. The Master would be proud. Put out sentries and gather everyone together by the bridge. It's time for a feast."

Tugratz turned his back on the jubilant orcs and reached for his sword. The handle was slippery with blood and gore. He licked off the blood and grinned devilishly. This would be a good war. Much food lay before them and they had but to reach and grasp it.


	2. Holding Fast

Two days went by without incident. Tugratz's men were getting edgy, eager to fight. The surprise attack had whetted their appetites but they craved more. He felt the urge too, but the Master had given strict orders. Take the bridge and hold until reinforcements arrived.

Immediately following the action Tugratz had his orcs form a barricade around the guard tower. They scrounged around for rubble and timber to construct a cordon. It took most of the first day to erect the wall. Once they were done however, Tugratz was proud. The wall was thirty feet long and three feet high at the lowest point.

Their rations were running low. Several hunting parties had been sent out over the past couple days. None returned. Something bad was about to happen but Tugratz did not know what. His orcs felt it too. The camp was eerily quiet and fidgety. Not even Flirsgar was looking for a fight.

Tugratz climbed unsteadily up to the top of the guard tower and scanned the surrounding area. It was still too dark to see far. The woods just a mile away swayed ominously in the sharp breeze. Everything indicated danger. He decided to stay on watch and sent down the other orc.

About an hour later Flirsgar scaled the ladder and took a position by Tugratz. Neither acknowledged the other. Mutual respect bonded them, but Tugratz knew better than to push his luck with an uruk. They got nasty when pushed. For now he was content to humor the younger beast. After all, he was exceptionally cunning and strong for an uruk his size.

"They are gathering in the trees." Flirsgar spoke with little emotion. The thought of the coming battle was foremost on his mind. "I can smell them. They are fearful."

Tugratz could not sense them himself, but took Flirsgar for his word. He had a knack for sensing enemies before others. When he thought someone was there they usually were.

"Shall I deploy your orcs?" His tone was slightly condescending as he addressed his orc-leader. Rebellion flickered in his eyes as he struggled to ask for permission.

"Not yet. I want them to think we don't know they are there. Let them come closer. You can deploy whenever you want once they leave the trees. I don't want them getting away."

Flirsgar paused. Tugratz could tell he was reviewing the plan. A good idea; Bad plans could get them all killed. Together they turned from the woods and hopped on the ladders.

Flirsgar and Tugratz had just reached the ground when a throng of men dashed out from the cover of the trees, shouting their war-cries. The number of men surprised Tugratz. This was clearly no relief garrison. This had to be a full battalion. They were doomed.

Flirsgar leapt into action. He drew his two-handed sword and roused the orcs, slapping left and right with the flat of his blade. The orcs quickly rose and scrambled for cover behind the hastily erected barricades. There were only a dozen orcs on this side of the bridge, give or take a few. Looking back across the river, Tugratz could see the dust trails of incoming orc columns. They were so far away.

An arrow skipped past his head and embedded itself in the thick timber frame of the barricade. His mind snapped back to the present situation and he looked for the two archers still with him. They had positioned themselves on top of the tower along with one of the orc scouts. They eyed the advancing host nervously and watched Tugratz.

"Fire."

Two arrows shot from their strings and found targets in the throng of men. One of the forerunners fell heavily and did not rise. The archers fired again, taking down two more. It was not enough.

The two forces met with a resounding crash of steel on steel. Tugratz and Flirsgar led the orcs forward and hit the men's charge dead on. An arrow slipped through the melee and pierced Tugratz's shield, scraping his hand. He contemptuously snapped the arrow off at the head and threw the shaft back.

Flirsgar ducked under a spear blade and swung his two-handed sword in a mighty arc. The blade crushed the helm of one man and embedded itself deep in a second man's breastplate. Blood spurted out in a stream and blinded the uruk as he wrenched the blade free. Two orcs fell beside him as they were overpowered by five men. Glancing over his shoulder, Tugratz caught a glimpse of the scout's corpse at the bottom of the tower. The archers were frantically shooting down man after man as a clump fought their way up the tower.

The main body of men crashed into the melee. Flirsgar ran a captain through with his two-hander before succumbing to a flood of white blades. His last battle cry sent a chill down Tugratz's spine. He gradually gave ground to the press of men as they pushed him back. On either side orc after orc fell to the hungry blades of the Gondorian soldiers. At last he was the last one standing. His back bumped against the barricade they had erected and he felt a measure of comfort. With his back protected he challenged the men to advance, crying out with all his might. Three men rushed forward to meet his challenge. His sword sliced through the armor of the first and he fell backwards grasping his innards. The blow continued on and caught on the neck-guard of the second man. The man stumbled into the path of the other and Tugratz pounced. His skinning dagger slid easily into his hand and he plunged it deep into the man's unprotected neck. The man let out a grunt and fell heavily. His move carried him too far forward, however, and he found himself beset with swords on all sides. Angry blades darted in from all sides and Tugratz felt pain lance up and down his body from a dozen places. Then his leg exploded with pain and the world went black.


	3. The Second Bridge

_He was alive!_ A reserve battalion of orcs had reached his position just after he was wounded and beaten back the men and their cruel steel blades. Oh how they had feasted on their flesh. The taste was still fresh on Tugratz's tongue as he surveyed the enemy position ahead.

He and the few survivors of his command had been shifted across the front to a second bridge that had thus far defied the Master's attempts to take it. None of the previous leaders had made a serious attempt to breach the Gondorians' formidable defenses protecting the bridge. Each attack had been weak and unsupported. To make matters worse, reinforcements were arriving continuously. There were now nearly three score men facing his command of a hundred from across the river.

This would be a bloody fight. He gripped his sword's handle in anticipation. The men had positioned themselves well. Their archers were spread out and clustered behind cover from where they could shoot with relative impunity. Their foot soldiers camped in small companies flanking the bridge and in the ruined town just past the bridge.

The five orc commanders surrounded him, watching him for an order. Their units had shrunk over the past few days because of the previous commanders' incompetence. Their eyes gleamed eerily as they studied him carefully, knowing a good leader when they saw one. The fight would be soon, and they were spoiling to be the first ones in. They were not kept waiting very long.

"Sharg, you and your maggots are going in first. Bring me the head of their commander."

The orc in question bowed energetically and limped off. He had taken an arrow in the ankle during the last assault and was anxious to get back in the fray. _Foolish, but loyal._ The others were less enthusiastic. They had led the earlier assaults and knew the power of the dreaded Gondorian archers. Those thrice cursed men could deliver death across the vast expanse and slay them before they could reach the bridge.

"Ugras, Zurg, send your arches to the hilltop. Have them fire at will once Sharg begins the assault. I want it to rain arrows on them."

The leaders did not bother acknowledging him as they headed off. He knew better than to stop them. In the army of Mordor rank meant little and promotions were envied. Either of the two orc archers could easily 'miss' and hit him if they felt the urge. Tugratz wisely decided to let them alone. He had something in plan, especially for them.

The last two commanders waited patiently as he studied the situation. After a few minutes of musing he turned abruptly and strode off towards the main orc force. The two orcs followed in step, exchanging evil grins and licking their dry cracked lips. It was killing time. There was food for the taking.

Tugratz marched up to the loitering orcs and pulled his new whip out of his belt. With an expert flick he cracked it on the banner of the Master. The noise echoed hollowly across the plains. All of the orcs dropped their food and rose as one. A throaty roar ripped out from their mouths as Tugratz hefted the banner and pointed it toward the bridge.

"Time to go kill us some men, maggots! They are scared and waiting to fall. Follow me to the feast!"

The orc force surged forward behind Tugratz as he rushed towards the bridge. A nimble and speedy orc caught up with him after a few steps and he gladly relinquished the banner. After all, it only made him a bigger target. _Better him than me_, Tugratz thought grimly.

Sharg's force was already nearing the bridge as Tugratz's horde reached the hill. Tugratz paused at the top long enough for effect before bellowing across the river at the men gathered around the bridge. His voice was uncannily clear and horrible as he emptied his lungs. When his lungs ran dry he resumed his charge, slowing down just enough to melt in with the frontrunners.

Sharg's boys were having a rough go at it. Despite their archers' best efforts the majority of the men archers managed to keep a steady stream of arrows flying towards Sharg's line. The bridge was already becoming clogged with the bodies of the slain. _Slain before they could reach them; I need to remember that._

With a triumphant shout Sharg broke past the hail of arrows and led his survivors onto the men's lines. Fear was evident on their faces as he and his orcs ignored the biting arrows and continued on regardless of their wounds. The line held for a moment, then broke as the orcs' momentum carried them off of the bridge.

Tugratz cheered on the efforts of the orcs across the river. His cheer was quickly followed by a curse, however, as two arrows zipped in past him and found victims in the front ranks. He dodged a third arrow and snarled as the banner wavered, its carrier shot in the throat. His body staggered slowly and collapsed in the mud, where it wallowed around piteously before giving out. The banner was raised as swiftly as it fell though, and the orcs pressed on with renewed determination.

One of the commanders beat Tugratz to the bridge. He turned back to wave exultantly at his troops. Then a hail of arrows lifted him off of his feet and he plunged over the wall and into the rushing water below. Tugratz ignored the sight and hurdled the first clump of dead orcs. _A bloody fight indeed._

Sharg's command was decimated. A handful of orcs remained steadfastly fighting at the foot of the town. They cringed as each orc fell, but hung on with the resolve of a leech. Sharg lay dead at the feet of one of the men's captains, who waved his sword back and forth as he exulted them to fight on.

Tugratz pointed to his right and left as his feet crossed the bridge. Two pairs of orcs nodded in step and split off as they reached the end of the bridge. He grinned wolfishly and urged the others on. He picked out a target from among the men's line and rushed in, sword in hand.

The man was busy fending off one of Sharg's last soldiers when Tugratz came down like a hawk. His rusty blade jabbed straight in between the man's helmet and shoulder pauldrons, slicing his neck in half. The man fell without a sound.

"Two of us to every one of them lads." He shouted over the melee. "Use your numbers!"

The orcs around him acknowledged his orders with a roar and began working in tandem with allies, picking apart the men in pairs. Tugratz admired their swift reactions and disappeared into the melee, heading for the captain. He had so far held his own against the advancing throng, cleaving a path with his sword. Nearly a half-dozen orcs lay at his feet, all slain.

The men and orcs paused as Tugratz appeared in front of the captain. Time slowed down and it seemed like even the arrows ceased flying. The captain shuddered at the sight of Tugratz but drew into a ready position. Tugratz laughed and yanked the whip out of his belt. The captain shuddered again, this time his nerve faltered just a little, but enough for him to take a step back.

"Are you ready to die, scum?" Tugratz howled in anticipation. He licked the fresh blood off of his sword, giving himself an adrenaline rush.

"You shall not pass, spawn of Morgoth."

"We'll see."

Tugratz swung low with his sword, hoping to catch the man's knee. To his disappointment, the man blocked the blow with his sword. The man's shield was thrust forward and slammed into Tugratz's chest, knocking him backwards. The sword followed the shield an instant later, searching for his gut. Tugratz knocked the sword aside with his whip hand and kicked out as he fell over. His foot smashed into the soldier's knee, causing it to buckle. A curse escaped the man's lips and he fell to his knee, pain distorting his face.

The fall left the man open for a bare second. Tugratz took the opportunity and pounced. He rolled forward and punched the man full in the face with the hilt of his sword. Bones snapped in Tugratz's hand as his knuckles smashed against the armored helm. The man, however, rolled limply over onto his back, his nose broken and blood spurting out.

But he was not finished. The man struggled to his feet, coughing up blood. Tugratz eyed the man with distaste, cursing the man's stubbornness. _Won't be as tasty when I'm done with him._

"You ready to give up yet, _human_?"

"Not while I draw breath."

"Suits me."

Tugratz's whip was like a flash of lightning as it snaked out and wrapped around his sword. An expert tug lifted it from the man's hand and cast it aside in the mud. Before the man could recover Tugratz charged forward and headbutted him. _Bad move_. Pain exploded in Tugratz's head and he stumbled backwards, ears ringing. The man was on the ground, screaming in pain and grasping at his nose. _At least it worked_.

Finishing the man off in the mud would have spoiled the meat, so Tugratz allowed him to rise. As soon as he had regained his feet the orc's sword battered his shield aside. The man fell to the ground and reached in his belt for something. _Might as well finish him now._

With an evil smile he sheathed his sword and strode over to the man. Tugratz stood over the man and reached down for the man's throat. He could taste the man's flesh already and his saliva splashed out of his mouth, covering the man in spittle. Too late did he notice the man's arm coming back around. A small dagger stabbed into his hand and Tugratz backed away, grabbing at his hand in agony. The blade had gone clean through the skin, narrowly missing his fingers.

_That's it, no more playing with him._ Tugratz unsheathed the sword and wielded it in his other hand. The sword felt slightly clumsy in this hand, as he had rarely used it, but it would work. After all the man was nearly dead.

A quick series of thrusts and slashes disarmed the man of his knife. The man fell forward and landed in the mud with his arms stretched out in opposite directions. Tugratz could hear the man breathing, though barely. With a sneer he raised his sword high and brought it down.

The man screamed in pain as the sword sliced through the armor covering his forearm. The severed limb flopped off and sank a couple inches into the mud while Tugratz stomped down on the still attached part. Blood sprayed out like a river, drenching his feet in delicious blood.

"You finished yet, _human_?"

The man bit back a cry of pain and managed to get a mouthful of spit. He reared his head back as far as he could and launched the projectile at Tugratz's face. It barely reached his knee.

"I'll take that as a no."

Tugratz's sword descended one final time. A strangled sob escaped the man's mouth as he anticipated the blow. Tugratz halted his thrust just over the man's neck, teasing him with its presence. Then he ended the blow, cleaving the man's head from his shoulders.

As if by magic, the fighting resumed around him, the soldiers that had just stood by watching the clash took up their arms and renewed their struggle; the orcs with a triumphant surge of energy, the men chilled by the weight of failure that their champion suffered.

Tugratz grabbed a nearby orc and pulled him aside.

"Go tell Ugras and Zurg to bring their companies in and deploy on this side of the river."

The orc threw a horrible salute and ambled off across the bridge, muttering in frustration about being pulled from the fight. Tugratz merely shrugged and took the orc's place in the fray, adding his skill and power to that of the others.

The fight lasted several more minutes, but the outcome was inevitable. Gondorian soldiers fell faster than the orcs and their courage broke. Some men retreated back to their main fort, others threw down their weapons and fled in random directions. That's where the flankers came into play. The orcs that had separated from the main body at the bridge pounced on the fleeing soldiers, slaying them all. Not a single man escaped.

Tugratz led the main body towards the fort, confident that the day was carried. He still had near four score troops under his command and the men had suffered heavy casualties. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

The frontrunners hurdled the fort's walls and landed on the other side, growls emancipating from their throats. All seven of them were immediately struck down by a hail of arrows. Tugratz reached the wall and peeked out across the barricade. He swore in surprise.

Fifty men stood in ordered ranks in the fort square, with archers flanking the main body. They had their arrows nocked and trained on the wall.

"Get back!"

Too late. Five more orcs leapt over the barrier and met their end on the sharp points of a score of arrows. The rest of the orcs fell back and laid flat on their bellies, eyes scanning the area for an alternative way in. Tugratz frowned as he checked the area. There were no good routes in and his men were starting to tire.

One of his men shouted out a warning and Tugratz looked up. Twenty men stood at the wall, bows armed and pointed at his soldiers. He could see at least two aiming straight for him.

There was a harsh buzzing noise behind him and a black cloud shot by his ears. Half of the men at the wall tumbled backwards arrows protruding from their necks. The rest retreated in panic, scattering at the sudden volley.

The orc host rose as one and dashed forward. Before the men could regroup the orcs were over the barrier. The men fell like flies before the orcs. They were too disorganized too mount an effective response until barely a handful remained. Those few men retreated in a body to the main building, a two story affair. Four of the men guarded the door with a hedge of steel while two others ran to the upper story windows, from which they began firing down upon the heads of the orcs.

Tugratz allowed the front ranks of his troop to clash with the men at the doorway. Taking a few nearby soldiers, he sidled off from the fray and circled the house. A devilish grin formed on his mouth as he found his target. A small backdoor, probably used by servants, stood hidden in an alcove behind the house. His troops licked their lips in excitement as he checked the door. It was locked.

Tugratz took a step back from the door and pointed at the largest orc with him. The orc nodded and thundered forward. Its body hit the door with a thud. The door held for a bare moment before splintering into pieces. The orc's momentum carried it past the door and it rumbled on until it slammed headfirst into a wall. The stunned orc wavered unsteadily on its feet and then crumpled in a heap senseless.

The rest of the force crept into the house, careful to not alert anyone. While three of them headed for the main door, Tugratz led the others up the stairs. He and his two soldiers crept up behind the archers without notice. The first one fell with a muffled groan as a sword blade slit his throat. The second one turned around, panicked by the attack. He fired pointblank into the nearest orc's face. The arrow pierced the helm, skull and what few brains were inside before carrying on past the orcs head, where it embedded itself deep into the wall. The orc fell without a sound, a gaping hole in its head.

Before the man could draw his sword, Tugratz rushed forward. He thought about beheading the man right there, but a better idea hit him when he was just a few feet away. He dropped the sword and leapt into the air, feet curled up close to his body. At the last second he lashed out with his leg, catching the man full in the breastplate. The man tumbled out the window with a shout of terror. Tugratz landed heavily on the floor as the man disappeared over the edge.

Mangled cries greeted Tugratz's ears from below as he rose from the floor. The tide of orcs finally broke past the men holding the door and they surged into the house, intent on looting the place. Tugratz grabbed the remaining orc by his side and continued on towards a closed door on the second floor. While he stood ready to strike anyone inside the other orc kicked in the door. It was empty except for a bed and a small drawer.

One of the lieutenants ran up the stairs and confronted Tugratz as he exited the room.

"Commander, we've got a situation downstairs."

Tugratz acknowledged the orc and followed him downstairs. As he reached the bottom the problem came into view.

Lying on the ground, beaten and surrounded by a throng of leering orcs, were two humans. From Tugratz's limited knowledge of humans, these were female. They looked like younglings, with longer hair than the males and slighter build.

_Oh, great. This will become a mess._

Tugratz roared out loudly to quiet the orcs in the house and get their attention.

"All you maggots, get outside, now."

The majority of the orcs shuffled outside with muttered grumbles, but a few chose to remain. They placed themselves between him and the females, swords and axes drawn. They glared at Tugratz, pure hatred and greed filling their eyes.

"We found 'em," the ringleader proclaimed, "so we get's to decide what we does with 'em."

"Really," Tugratz sheathed his sword, acutely aware of the multitude of eyes watching from outside. "It that a challenge?"

"Yes." The orc spat at his feet and rubbed his hand along the sword-edge. "If you're up to it."

"Fine." Tugratz crossed the distance between them in a flash. He delivered a series of quick blows to the orcs stomach, doubling it over in pain. Then he circled behind it and grabbed its neck with both hands. One swift twist and the neck bones cracked. The orc dropped like a sack of rocks.

"Anyone else want to try it?" Tugratz calmly brushed himself off and forced the others to look in his eyes. "Any of you feeling brave?"

The remaining orcs bowed their heads in submission and filed out of the room, cowed by his action. Once they had all left Tugratz faced the two humans, contempt and loathing in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked in broken Common Speech.

The females remained silent. Tugratz noticed that their cheeks were tearstained and that they shook with fear. If he wanted anything from them he would need to calm them down. Like that would ever happen. He wouldn't bother trying to cajole them; he would just force it out of them.

Tugratz picked one of the females and approached her, his sword held loose by his side.

"Tell me who you are now."

The two females exchanged some words that he didn't understand. When he didn't get an answer he brandished the sword in her face, grinning as she shuddered at its touch.

"Still don't want to talk? That's fine with me…" He loosed bloodchilling roar and swung the blade as hard as he could. The blade missed her hand by a hairsbreadth, sinking deep into the wooden floor. A scream escaped her and she pulled her hand back in terror.

"I won't miss next time, so you'd better start talking."

The female dropped her head to the floor. Muffled sobs came from the other one and Tugratz rolled his eyes. _Stupid stubborn females._

"One last time," he forced the woman's head up with the tip of his sword. "You don't want me to get angry." The whip appeared in his left hand. The female sobbed out loud and buried her head in her hands. The whip rose in the air as Tugratz flicked it upwards.

"Stop!" the second female covered the first one with her body, arms stretched out protectively. "Leave her alone."

The whip descended unabated, catching her in the chin. There was a resounding crack as it snapped below her jaw line, ripping the flesh along her throat. She screamed in pain and fell backwards clutching at her bleeding throat. The uninjured female moaned piteously. Finally she raised her head and answered him.

"My… name is Brianna," she said quietly. "My sister and I are the daughters of the commanding officer here. Please spare us."

"You have no clue what you're asking for, youngling." Despite his hatred for them, Tugratz felt some pity for them. "However, you are of no use to me."

His sword flashed through the air twice and two screams rent the air. The orcs under his command watched him carefully as he stalked out of the house, licking fresh blood from his sword. It was so deliciously fresh.

"This day's over," Tugratz shouted to his soldiers. They cheered wearily. "Have yourselves a good rest. Oh, and by the way, there's some tender meat back there." He jerked his thumb towards the house. "First come, first served."


End file.
